


Evening Tea

by crybaby_lane



Category: Mozart l'Opéra Rock - Mozart/Baguian & Guirao
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Mozart is a cute twink with a crappy past, Mutual Pining, Pining, Salieri is the definition of gay panic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 16:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19232923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crybaby_lane/pseuds/crybaby_lane
Summary: A rapture at the door broke the bitter quiet of his apartment. Antonio was tempted to not answer. He knew it was most likely some vagrant attempting to seek shelter from the storm but something in the pit of his stomach drew him to answer.





	Evening Tea

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first shot at fanfiction, I really hope you all like it:)

Salieri sank down further in his dark armchair, nursing a cup of tea in his palms. He couldn’t bother to draw the curtains at the moment. Too many thoughts were abstracting his mind, the golden rays would just sear through any sense he could attempt to make out of this situation. The sullen man ran his hands through his dark hair. Rosenberg had assigned him a piece for the Emperor in collaboration with Viennas newest talent, Wolfgang Mozart. Salieri absolutely dreading walking through the palace’s shining doors every day to see the composer and his bright aura. 

Mozart was a constant plague in his mind. Perhaps when you spend so much time with someone, they are just bound to break through the walls you delicately built around yourself. Work sessions were almost always obstructed his mop of golden locks, the way his eyes drifted in the passion of his notes, lips parted slightly in concentration revealing the slight gap between his front teeth. 

He tried to shake himself out of it, when he started to hear the slight pitter patter of raindrops on the windowpane. He walked up to the glass finally gathering the courage to draw the curtains and face the outside. He hasn’t even noticed the storm creeping in on the horizon, men and women rushing on their way to step out of the oncoming downpour. The sound was a decent enough distraction.

Antonio had always been aware of his pull towards other men as opposed to the fairer sex. He pushed it as far back as he could. Growing up with a brother, he knew the way he looked at women, the curve of their hips and breasts, the delicateness of their faces. He understood why they were attracted to women but never had experienced it for himself. 

A rapture at the door broke the bitter quiet of his apartment. Antonio was tempted to not answer. He knew it was most likely some vagrant attempting to seek shelter from the storm but something in the pit of his stomach drew him to answer. He straightened his waistcoat and slowly turning the knob he revealed a disheveled Wolfgang, still treating Salieri with a smile even though his was shivering like a wet puppy. Speak of the devil. 

“Hello maestro! May I come in?” He didn’t want to leave the boy outside but couldn’t stand the thought of having this man, the one who brought on all these depraved thoughts into his residence. He appeared to be shielding something under his sequined coat the contents of which Antonio was trying to figure out. 

“-yes, yes come in.” Antonio ushered Mozart off his steps. “I’ll grab something to dry you.” Mozart seizes his wrist causing the taller man to fluster. 

“No! I need you to hear this.” He finally revealed what he had been concealing this whole time, several sheets of parchment with notes scribbled hastily across them as if he was trying to capture them before they waned from his thoughts. 

He strolled past to the pianoforte facing the newly drawn open window. The perfect backdrop to his divine beauty and talent. Despite his drenched appearance, he still looked radiant as ever. 

Antonio’s mind dwindled to a hollow of self pity. He knew himself naught in comparison to the young Mozart. His callous eyes only set on him yet would never get to meet his amber orbs with the same affection Salieri held for him.

Lovely notes started to form from the boys fingertips out into the air until they dissolved. It was utterly magnificent. The melancholy tone was somewhat unfamiliar to Wolfgang yet fit so well. Normally in his pieces, you could always understand what he had to communicate. With this one thought, he could not say. The melancholic tone was very surprising to hear. Perhaps a falling out. Possibly maybe even written about his secret past which Salieri desperately wants to figure out, as if Mozart’s heart was made from clay and he could smooth the harsh cuts with the pads of his fingers. Most likely the piece was for his loving wife Constance whom the man had grown increasingly jealous of over the past few months.

Occasionally she would stop by during their work sessions to bring him lunch or music sheets he had forgotten. She always departed with a kiss. Everytime they were together Antonio could only wish to be the his lips to his. But that’s all it was. All it ever could be, a wish.  
It seemed as quickly as it started the notes died leaving Antonio back in his place on his sofa. The ghost of the romance they could never have dancing on his lips. 

“What’d you think?” He asked inquisitively, getting up to sit in the seat next to Saleri. His hair had started to curl at the ends due to the rain. 

“It was…” His sentence trailed. Complimenting the boys work felt terrifying to him. Yes, it was only a song but it felt as if he was speaking his true feelings toward him which is all too much. Letting Mozart in even this much will inevitably cause him more pain than necessary. “Beautiful.” The order man's voice came out shaky and hesitant. he rotated his body to face the composer since he had sat down only to see the spark in his eyes be fanned by his compliment. “But why did you insist on playing this for me? Why not Constanze or even your sister?”

“Because I wrote it for you maestro. You have become my muse, in many of my recent pieces actually.” The boy was fiddling with his fingers. This was the most nervous he’d seen him. The confession felt like only a dream like he could wake up in an instant cold and alone once again. Before he could snap himself out of shock he felt Mozart press his soft lips to his own. It was only a slight brush but enough to reveal their true feelings. The darker man brought his hand to cup against Mozart’s soft jawline deepening the kiss. 

They parted just enough to feel their warm breath against one another’s skin. Antonio squeezes his eyes closed and pulled the shorter man into an embrace. Mozart rubbed circles on his back while the older man sobbed into the crook of his neck. 

The steam settled and the tea was promptly forgotten...


End file.
